


the chronicles of falling in love (it goes like this)

by RenWen17



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Boo Seungkwan is Whipped, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Jeon Wonwoo is Whipped, M/M, Mentioned Lee Seokmin | DK, Soft kissing, because they are not dumb, it's not explicit but wonwoo is autistic bc I said so, they love each other so much yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenWen17/pseuds/RenWen17
Summary: snapshots from wonwoo and seungkwan's developing relationship
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Jeon Wonwoo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98





	the chronicles of falling in love (it goes like this)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [hopeboos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeboos/gifts).



it starts like this:

seungkwan is eighteen, and living alone for the first time in his life. his sisters helped him bring his boxes in from the moving truck, but they’ve been gone for nearly an hour and the apartment is cold.

seungkwan stands in a maze of cardboard boxes and feels a little like he might cry.

the doorbell rings.

which is weird, because seungkwan just moved in. he goes to open the door anyway, and is greeted by a tall, lanky figure clutching a foil-wrapped plate in one hand and a squalling cat in the other.

“hi,” the guy says. his round glasses are falling down his nose, and he shoves them up with the wrist of the hand holding the plate. “um. i’m jeon wonwoo. i live next door.”

the cat meows frantically, wriggling in wonwoo’s arms. seungkwan blinks confusedly.

wonwoo goes pink. “um,” he says again. “you seemed lonely. so i brought some brownies and my cat.” he hands the plate to seungkwan and wraps his now-free arm around the cat. “if that’s okay.”

“uh — sure,” seungkwan stammers, and steps back to let wonwoo in. “i’m boo seungkwan. sorry about the mess — i just got done carrying the boxes in and…” his face burns. the landlady had warned him that the walls were a little thin, so wonwoo probably knows that seungkwan had been standing helplessly amidst his boxes and not doing anything for ages.

“s’okay,” wonwoo says easily. he nudges the door shut with his elbow and sets his cat down. “go on, git, you fat bastard,” he says fondly, and then turns nearly magenta. “um, shit — i meant the cat. not you. shit.”

he looks so endearingly embarrassed that seungkwan has to laugh, and the cat, now winding happily around wonwoo’s feet, lets out a loud meow.

——

it goes like this.

wonwoo brings his cat, whose name is simba, over every day he can. simba sneaks onto seungkwan’s balcony in the middle of the night and yells, and seungkwan, unfailingly, lets him in and keeps him inside until morning, when he brings him back.

wonwoo answers the door in his pajamas most days, sleep-ruffled and soft. can you blame seungkwan for falling in love?

“i love you,” he blurts one of these mornings. wonwoo pauses, simba cradled in his arms, and blinks. he’s got the creases of his pillow marked on his cheek, and his glasses are askew.

“what?” he asks softly. his voice is scratchy, and in the back of his mind, seungkwan makes a note to bring him more lemon and ginger tea for his allergies.

“i love you,” seungkwan repeats, as bravely as he can. it’s early spring now, and wonwoo’s cherry blossom bonsai tree is thriving, pink and white. he promised to bring seungkwan to the cherry blossom festival in his hometown. “i want to date you.”

wonwoo’s already flushed from sleep, but he grins softly, looking down at the cat in his arms. “oh,” he says, and seungkwan’s stomach drops. he can’t tell if it’s a good drop or a bad one.

“i wanna date you too,” wonwoo says. he frees an arm to knuckle at his eyes like a kid, yawning hugely. “’course i do. but i’m gon’ — gon’ take a nap first, ok?” he grins tiredly at seungkwan, eyes soft.

simba yowls mournfully in a drawn-out plea for food, startling both of them. as if in answer, seungkwan’s stomach rumbles, and both seungkwan and wonwoo crack up.

“well, i oughta be up anyway,” wonwoo admits. “this might be… this might be the lamest first date ever, but do you want to come in? i’ll make breakfast for you and simba.” he grins, crookedy and tired, and seungkwan can’t help but smile back and follow him inside.

wonwoo putters around the apartment, filling simba’s dishes with food and water. “you can sit wherever,” he tells seungkwan, measuring dry food into simba’s bowl with careful precision. “do you like rolled eggs?”

“rolled eggs are great,” seungkwan says. for the first time in months, being in wonwoo’s space is awkward instead of easy and natural. wonwoo seems to feel it too, pushing his glasses up every few seconds and scrunching his nose.

“this is weird,” wonwoo confesses at length, frowning at the rolled eggs in progress. “i didn’t want it to be weird.”

seungkwan smothers a nervous laugh. “i didn’t either,” he murmurs.

wonwoo laughs, ruffling the back of his hair, and the awkwardness breaks.

——

it goes like this: seungkwan is impulsive, as he always is, and plants a kiss on wonwoo over their rolled eggs. wonwoo kisses back — both of them inexperienced but eager. then simba decides he wants in on what is clearly a communal grooming session to his cat brain and starts putting his paws all over them, licking at their faces.

they break apart, laughing, and seungkwan finds that he absolutely has to lean in briefly and kiss those smiling lips.

“i love you,” he murmurs against wonwoo’s mouth.

“i love you too,” wonwoo replies.

simba yowls.

——

“you’re dating  _ who?” _ seungkwan’s friend soonyoung asks in astonishment. “wonwoo?  _ jeon wonwoo?  _ mister lives-in-the-library?”

seungkwan puffs up like a blowfish. “and what about it?” he asks, meaning for it to sound grand and unbothered.

“nothing!” soonyoung exclaims. “just…” he wrinkles his nose. “isn’t he a bit  _ quiet _ for you?”

in one of those moments seungkwan will savor for quite a long while, he puffs himself up further. “i,” he says, “am loud enough for both of us.” then he deflates, because soonyoung is making that squished face that means he’s trying really hard not to laugh at him. “what?”

“if you say so, madame delacour,” soonyoung giggles. “anyway, if you actually like him, like, romantically —” at which he pulls an astonishingly awful face — “then i guess i can’t say anything.”

seungkwan slugs him in the shoulder, because he is an adult of nineteen years old and deserves to be able to punch his friends when they’re being dumb.

“ow! slain, killed, ruined by my own best friend, and for what?” soonyoung cries out dramatically, rolling onto his side and kicking his feet pathetically. “my honesty? support? death and woe, you’re not invited to my birthday party any more, seokmin is my new best friend…”

he probably keeps talking, but seungkwan stops listening around then, because wonwoo has just arrived with a big greasy bag of fast food, like some kind of angel in an oversized cardigan.

“you look really dumb in those cardigans,” seungkwan tells him fondly, and kisses him on the cheek.

wonwoo grins, scrunching his nose up. “thanks. i brought you arby’s for lunch.”

“fuck yes,” seungkwan says, with much feeling. “i love you.”

soonyoung peers at them from where he is still lying in the grass. “oh shit,” he announces. “you really do love each other.” he sits up in a great flailing of limbs and hooks his chin over seungkwan’s shoulder. “gimme some of your curly fries.”

“get your own boyfriend to give you curly fries,” seungkwan retorts. “wonwoo, hit him for me. he’s trying to steal my fries.”

wonwoo obliges, reaching out with one of his stupidly long arms to give soonyoung a gentle bonk on the head with his fist. “bop,” he says solemnly as his fist makes contact, and soonyoung lets out a wail of anguish.

seungkwan would cherish that wail if it wasn’t right next to his ear.

wonwoo picks up their garbage when they’re done eating (and feeding too many curly fries to soonyoung to make him stop complaining), and pulls seungkwan up by the hand. “want to go home and play smash brothers?” he asks, and gleefully puts his greasy fingers on seungkwan’s face.

seungkwan shrieks. “i’m going to  _ destroy _ you, jeon wonwoo!”

——

it goes like this: seungkwan snuggled up next to wonwoo in their new king-sized bed, simba lying on their feet and late-afternoon sun pooling in their covers. they’ve been together for going on three and a half years now. seungkwan’s never been happier.

wonwoo hums gently and pushes his nose into seungkwan’s hair. “hey,” he murmurs. “i love you.”

they’ve been moving into their new apartment all day, so seungkwan doesn’t have the energy to reply verbally. instead, he tilts his head up and presses his mouth to wonwoo’s jaw, smiling.

wonwoo bends his head down obligingly, pulling seungkwan closer with the arm wrapped around his shoulders. he tastes like orange lip balm, his lips soft due to seungkwan’s incessant nagging about chapstick.

“love you,” seungkwan whispers against wonwoo’s mouth. “love you so much.”

it seemed impossible that seungkwan would find this; a boy who loves him, and kisses him, and has a cat that loves them both. an apartment full of potted plants, seungkwan’s shoes next to wonwoo’s in the entryway, their favorite mugs side by side on the counter.

but here he is, kissing wonwoo in their shared bed, wonwoo’s hand creeping up his shirt to flatten his broad hand against the skin of seungkwan’s back and pull him closer.

seungkwan clutches at wonwoo’s shirt to bring him as close as possible, feeling wonwoo’s heartbeat thud-thud against his fingertips.

he lifts one finger to tap-tap-tap the nail against wonwoo’s heartbeat.

wonwoo isn’t good with verbal expressions of love — he explained once that saying the words out loud seems so trite and yet so monumental, heavy on his tongue. so seungkwan taught him a trick he learned from his sisters — three squeezes when you’re holding hands means “i love you.”

wonwoo says “i love you” without saying it out loud all the time now. three squeezes, three taps, three gentle kisses on seungkwan’s head.

now, he taps his fingers on seungkwan’s back in response, smiling against seungkwan’s mouth.  _ i love you. _

seungkwan grins back, their kiss turning messy.  _ i love you, _ he tells wonwoo in a quick pattern of nibbles to his lower lip, and wonwoo responds in kind.

wonwoo pulls away then, a sardonic smile on his face. “hang on,” he mutters, and pulls off his glasses, folding them neatly to put them on the nightstand. “i don’t wanna poke you.”

seungkwan laughs, burying his head in wonwoo’s chest. “always so considerate,” he murmurs. wonwoo makes one of his baffled noises, the kind he makes when he isn’t sure if seungkwan’s joking or not, and seungkwan places a gentle kiss on his collarbone in apology. “really. i really appreciate it.”

“mm,” wonwoo hums, tapping his fingers against seungkwan’s back. “love you.” he kisses seungkwan’s hair, then his eyelid, then his nose. “so much it kinda scares me.”

“mm?” seungkwan hums back, prompting him to continue. he’s learned that wonwoo needs the prompting sometimes, needs to know that seungkwan cares enough to hear everything he has to say.

“yeah. but i wouldn’t have it any other way,” wonwoo murmurs, and his lips find seungkwan’s again, kissing hungrily.

vaguely, seungkwan is aware of simba making a disgusted noise and hopping off their feet, leaving the bedroom with a disdainful air, and he giggles into wonwoo’s mouth. “cat thinks we’re being stupid,” he chuckles.

“mm. he’s right,” wonwoo replies, a crooked grin on his face. “it’s the best kind of stupid, though.”

and oh, seungkwan loves that smile. he loves to kiss it even more, wonwoo laughing into the kiss as he flips them over so he’s hovering over seungkwan, attacking every part of his face he can reach with kisses.

“i love you,” seungkwan pants, reaching a cheeky hand up the back of wonwoo’s shirt to feel up his muscles. wonwoo flexes obligingly, nosing at seungkwan’s neck and leaving soft kisses on his collarbone.

“love you too,” wonwoo murmurs, lips soft against seungkwan’s skin.

it goes like this, seungkwan and wonwoo’s hearts singing a call and response:

wonwoo’s fingers going _tap-tap-tap_ on seungkwan’s back, a gentle “i love you.”

seungkwan’s voice, whispered into wonwoo’s wooly cardigan. “i love you too.”

“love you for ever and ever.”

“me too.”

“will you marry me?”

“of course.”

seungkwan hopes it’ll go like this forever.


End file.
